


bright and clear

by hardlygolden



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlygolden/pseuds/hardlygolden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Eric Taylor,” she declares, “you are my hero.”</i></p><p>Two decades later, he still is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bright and clear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k4writer02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/k4writer02/gifts).



He’s just a stocky young man in a beat-up car, but Tami has never been so relieved to see someone as she is to see him. She’s been standing beside the side of the road cursing at the mysterious workings of her car’s engine for the last half-hour, and becoming increasingly convinced that nobody else was going to drive down this stretch of road ever again.

She’s _hungry_ , and it’s raining - a slow and  soul-destroying drizzle. Her hair is sodden, and even though she’s tied it back into a low ponytail, she can feel it dripping rainwater down the back of her t-shirt.

“What’s the problem?” he says.

She gestures at her car, and he grins. “ _That,_ I got,” he says. “I meant more specifically.”

“I have no idea,” she says, throwing up her hands.

Five minutes later and he emerges from under the hood. “I have no idea either. I think you’re going to need a mechanic. I don’t know that much about cars,” he confesses. He has a very nice smile, she notices. “Does that make me a bad Texan?”

Tami takes a moment to consider. “That depends,” she says. “Do you love football?”

He laughs. “Live and breathe it.”

“Then I think you’ll pass,” she says.

“Can I drive you to a mechanic?” he offers. When he wipes his face he leaves a small grease smudge across his left cheek. It’s rather endearing.

“My mama told me not to get in the car with a stranger,” she says, but she’s mostly joking. She’s seen this boy around campus, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt from the same university she goes to.

“Eric Taylor,” he says, holding out one hand and shading his face from the rain with the other. “Now we’re not strangers.”

“Tami,” she says, shaking his hand firmly.

As they drive into town, they talk - in fact, she becomes so absorbed in the conversation that she’s startled when he suddenly swerves the car around. She’s been so busy watching his face she has to look out the window a moment to get her bearings.

They’re in the parking lot of a local diner.

“I thought you might want to grab a burger or something first,” he offers. He sounds confident, but she notices the trace of uncertainty behind his words. Just a trace, but it’s enough.

“Eric Taylor,” she declares, “you are my hero.”

Two decades later, and he still is.

*

“Football” is Gracie Bell’s second word, and Eric isn’t actually there to witness it because he’s in the kitchen with Tami (because she says, quite rightly, that if he’s going to invite all his boys around for dinner, ‘ _the very least you can do, Eric Taylor, is help to clean up the aftermath_ ,’) but he hears Tim’s whoop right before Tim bursts into the kitchen, Matt and the rest of the team close on his heels. The boys clear a path for Julie, who emerges cradling Gracie Bell on her hip.

“She said _football_ ,” Tim crows. “How’s that, Coach?”

Eric feels his heart swell three sizes. “Come here, Gracie,” he says, reaching for her. He loves the feeling of holding his child in his arms – as amazing as it has been to watch Julie grow into a young woman, he’s missed the days when he could hold her tight and feel like he and Tami were her entire world, the way she was theirs.

“Football,” Julie says, shaking her head in bemusement. “She’s definitely your daughter, dad.”

Tami swats Julie with the dish rag she’s holding, mock-outraged. “Julie TayIor, I don’t believe there was ever any doubt about that.”

Eric ignores their carrying-on, reaching for Julie with his other arm.

“You’re both my daughters,” he says gruffly. His eyes meet Tami’s, and he notices hers are suspiciously misty.

After Julie and the boys whisk Gracie away, Eric leans against the kitchen counter, staring after them.

Tami elbows him lightly in the side. “Stop imagining what position our baby will play. She hasn’t even learnt to walk yet.”

“How is it you can read my mind,” he says.

“Considering most of your thoughts begin and end with football...” Tami says, trailing off.

“Not _most_ of them,” he argues, and she just looks at him.

“Fine, a lot of them,” he concedes. “But I have other thoughts.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says.

“I certainly do. In fact, right now I'm thinking of something we could do tonight.”

“Oh, are you now?” Tami asks, batting her eyes at him.

“I am,” he says, pulling her in for a kiss, which she returns.

She leans in close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t think this absolves you of kitchen duty.”

She sashays away, and he picks up the discarded dish rag.

“I’ll see you tonight, Eric Taylor,” she says as she turns in the doorway, blowing him a kiss.

“It’s a date,” he says, winking.

He whistles as he dries the plates, hearing the conversation drift through from the adjoining room.  This is my family, he thinks, and it’s an incredible thought no matter how many times he thinks it. He can hear Tami exclaiming over something that Matt is saying, and Julie’s laughter can be heard intermingled with Tim’s bass tones.

*

Of course, Gracie’s  first word was the same as Julie’s was – a fact Tami did not allow to go unnoticed.

“Quit hogging all our children’s first words,” Tami chides.

He smiles. He’d feel guiltier if he hadn’t overheard her earnestly coaching Gracie Bell for the last fortnight ( _that’s your daddy, Gracie Bell, can you say Daddy? Daddy. Say  Daddy, Gracie_ ).

"The way I see it, it's your own fault. You've just got to stop bragging about me to our daughters," he says.

“I will, as soon as you stop being so brag-worthy. I’m just glad she’s as proud of her daddy as I am,” she continues, leaning her head on his shoulder. He drops his chin down to rest upon the top of her head, breathes in deep the scent of her shampoo. He loves this woman.

As he puts his arm around her and kisses the top of her head, Eric thinks, not for the first time, that he’s the luckiest man alive.

*

(When Gracie was born, Tami had said  _And you’re sure you’re not disappointed_? and he’d just looked at her, amazed, because how could he possibly be?  _No such thing as too many Taylor women,_ he’d said.)

 


End file.
